Everybody agrees and, it goes without saying, that each country or nation has its own pecularities or idiosyncrasies. The small island nation of Malta, lost in the middle of the blue Mediterrean sea, is no exception. Of course,what appeals to Dick may not find favor with Tom or Harry. So with this caveat in your mind, may I reminisce about some customs still fresh in my "young" mind and, which the distance of 7000 miles have not succeeded to wipe out....
I recall those beautiful processions celebrating the various Saints of each village or town with a cornucopia of fireworks display,lighting the evening sky and putting the whole island under constant siege of bum,bum,bum! That yearly madness of sheer joy and youthful enthusiasm lasting for 3 days-from Friday evening to Sunday night-seeps deep into the warm hearts of every villager or towner, whose Patron Saint is being celebrated on those days. In conjunction with those feasts, I reminisce about the colorful marchings of the local Bands,going through those narrow streets of the village or town, serenading the locals with their boisterous yet colorful melodies. It brings warmth and joy to one's heart to see so many of those band-players tugging along their youngest son or daughter as if to instill in them the desire to join ranks with them in the near future-and many of them do, I am proud to say.
I recall the innocent bettings going on every Sunday on the village Square of Zejtun among canary lovers, putting their wagers on whose bird sings the loudest and the longest. This pastime-contest goes on for quite some time, and becuase of it many canaries change hands on Sunday mornings...
I reminisce about the frantic display of colorful kites in the late afternoon sky from the various rooftops of the average Maltese family...How many times among those kite-lovers you see dog-fights in the sky when some youngster tries to seize his distant rival kite by some strange pull of the string attached to his kite...I know that excitement from personal experience and what such tricks involve. I have done them many a time...
And I recall those days when as a youngster, sitting with others my age on the lower steps of St Catherine's Church Square, trying to guess from the various noises heard in the distance the name of the approaching Bus. Each local Bus, being so old, had its own distinguisable and peculiar sound. And may I add, some buses, remnants of those bygone days, still groan with more stranger beats than those of yesteryears!
If you-the reader of these memories-have a chance in your lifetime, fly to Malta and witness these and other beautiful customs of this island, made famous by the Shipwreck of St Paul in 60 A.D.
[Fr. Carmelo Mifsud, Maltese by birth, was ordained Catholic priest in Malta in 1959. After ordination, he did missionary work for 7 years in the State of Parana, Brazil. In 1966 he came to America. He served as Assistant Pastor and Pastor in several parishes in the San Francisco area. He retired in 1994 from active ministry and now resides in Medford, Oregon, USA.His E-mail: Fr. Carmelo Mifsud